


When I get that feeling I want (sexual healing)

by intravenusann



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Desperation, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, PWP, Potions Accident, Religious Guilt, Shame, Weird Biology, omega topping alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intravenusann/pseuds/intravenusann
Summary: When Percival swallows something he shouldn't have, he needs Credence's help to make though the morning. PWP. (Omega!Credence/Alpha!Graves)





	When I get that feeling I want (sexual healing)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [There’s nothing wrong with me (loving you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495190) by [intravenusann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intravenusann/pseuds/intravenusann). 



> Please read the warnings. I got a bunch of really cool prompts on Tumblr like "I'm always a slut for abo, but if not, consider praise kink, or if that's too usual, perhaps some good old fashioned sex pollen." And I was like, hey, you know what I could do? Combine all of those. So, I did. 
> 
> Also, unbeta'd.

“The worst it can do is poison me,” Percival says.

Credence gets a view of his own eyebrows as he scowls.

“I’ve been poisoned before, Credence,” Percival says. “Antidotes are a necessary part of the auror entrance exam.”

He picks up the small, glass vial holding Credence’s work of the past week. Lifting it to his nose, Percival looks at Credence.

“Perhaps,” Credence says.

Percival downs the potion in one swallow.

“— you shouldn’t.” Credence sighs.

Percival’s brows twist thoughtfully as he looks toward the lighted sconce on the wall. His small mouth flattens onto a straight line. He rubs the stubble on his chin.

“Well,” he says, “nothing unusual so far.”

Credence checks in on him every hour while Percival works in his study.

“Aren’t you studying potions?” Percival asks, after the fifth time. “I would think that would occupy more of your time.”

Eventually he surrenders to allow Credence to watch over him while he calculates advanced arithmancy. Credence fetches books for the associated research.

“How are you feeling?” Credence asks over dinner.

“Quite usual,” Percival tells him. He smiles slightly at Credence from across the table. When that fails to change Credence’s demeanor, he pulls his brows together as though a serious enough expression will do the trick. Credence looks down at his dinner. It’s bland. A few months with Percival — and without Queenie’s daily guidance — and he still hasn’t quite perfected any single meal. At least he didn’t burn himself.

For some reason, Credence never notices that something is too hot until after he’s touched it for too long. He also hasn’t quite mastered the healing charm for burns. 

Percival is forced to do it for him whenever he burns his fingertips in the kitchen. Though, he perhaps doesn’t need to cast the charm by kissing Credence’s hand. But he always does.

“How are  _you_ feeling?” Percival asks. 

Credence’s shoulders jolt. He looks up from his plate.

“Fine,” Credence says.

Percival hums softly and continues to eat.

After dinner, they linger in the parlor outside the master bedroom. Credence reads from his latest book — “Before Ilvermorny: The First Stories of Magic in America” — in a quiet voice. Percival sits beside him, leaning closer and closer as the hands of the clock creep towards ten. The hairs at the nape of Credence’s neck move when Percival breathes.

“I’m going to bed,” Percival says.

Credence still doesn’t know what to say to that. He shuts his book.

Percival uses mostly magic to get ready, while Credence washes himself with a bowl and cloth. He uses a toothbrush with metal handle that Percival bought him. It looks gold and it has never tarnished, but Credence still hopes it’s only brass. Magical brass? He’s afraid to ask.

“Could I have a kiss?” Percival asks.

“Yes,” Credence says, and not, “I’ve been living here for months and you’re still asking. Why do you _do_ that?”

The sleeve of Percival’s robe sticks to Credence’s damp skin, especially at the small of his back. Percival looks at him for a moment while their faces are close together. But the kiss he presses to Credence’s lips is soft and lacks any urgency. As Percival’s kisses often do, it leaves Credence wanting to press for something less gentle. 

Percival pulls away before Credence can even taste the breath-freshening charm on his tongue.

“Would you like to…” Credence throat closes.

He ought to wait for Percival to ask, if only because the words for what he wants always fail him.

“Would I like to what, Credence?” Percival asks. The creases around his eyes and the way one side of his mouth lifts tells Credence that Percival already knows what Credence wants. But he simply isn’t acting on it, because… Because he’s mocking Credence? Because he doesn’t want to? Credence doesn’t know.

He feels cold enough to need his pajama shirt.

“Would you like to have hotcakes with breakfast?” Credence asks. “I want to practice them.”

Percival laughs. “That would be delicious, I’m sure.”

He brushes a hand against Credence’s shoulder while Credence has his back turned and Credence’s whole body shivers.

“Could I kiss you again?” Percival asks.

So they kiss again, twice in the master bathroom, once in the doorway, twice at the foot of the bed.

“It’s terribly late,” Percival says.

“We should sleep,” Credence says, even though he doesn’t want to. He _should_.

“You’re right,” Percival says. “As always.”

Credence is fairly certain that he is rarely right, let alone always.

“Another kiss?” Percival asks. 

“Please?”

Credence kisses him quickly, perhaps too sharply, so that he won’t be tempted to linger. In the morning, Percival usually asks for more kisses. Then, he might ask to kiss other parts of Credence. He might ask Credence to kiss him. When Credence is close to his ordeal, he asks to put his face between Credence’s thighs and can linger there for an hour. Everything else, all the other ways they’ve touched each other, Percival only seems to desire when he’s in a rut.

Credence climbs under the covers and Percival lies close to him, but only close enough for Credence to feel his breath. 

Sleep comes slowly when Credence is so aware of his own flesh and all the things it aches to feel. But Credence is used to aching. He is used to sleeping despite the ache.

He wakes in the dark — far earlier than he ought to. The bed is shaking slightly. He hears Percival groan.

Fear grabs Credence by the heart. He feels his eyes widen more than they should against the dark. He can see nothing — and then he can see everything, as simple as magic.

He turns over in bed. Percival’s brow is creased with lines. Sweat drips down his exposed throat and glistens on the stubble that has grown in over the hours.

“Oh, Credence,” Percival moans. 

He opens his eyes and Credence can see the way his pupils push the brown of his eyes to the very edges of the white. Even worse, Credence can see the light shining out of his own eyes reflected back in the darkness of Percival’s.

Credence closes his eyes.

“Oh no,” Percival says.

The fear climbs up Credence’s throat with claws. He tries to will the light out of his eyes, but when he opens them again he still sees the bright reflection in Percival’s eyes.

“I woke you,” Percival says. He looks pained.

“Beautiful, darling Credence,” Percival says, punctuating every word with a breath.

“I hoped you wouldn’t wake up.”

Credence’s fear spikes and the blanket suddenly sweeps off of him. He can easily sit up and look Percival over.

Percival clutches the blankets with one white-knuckled hand. The other hand is somewhere under the cover.

“Are you hurt?” Credence asks.

“No!” Percival says. “No.”

He’s groaning as he repeats the word again and again. “No, no, no.”

Every lamp in the bedroom suddenly lights. Credence hears fabric tearing. He feels grit between his teeth and under his fingernails.

“Credence,” Percival says. He moans around the shape of Credence’s name, as though it hurts to say.

Credence hears the roar of his own blood in his ears.

Then, darkness.

But Credence can see even more in the dark. He can see in every direction around him. He can see himself, kneeling on the bed in his pajamas, enveloped in his diseased magic.

“Did you,” Percival begins to say. 

“Break the… lamps?”

His breathing is labored. Credence watches the movement of his ribs, the damp sheen of sweat on his skin. Credence’s magic has not simply torn away the bedsheets, but Percival’s bedclothes as well.

Or no, Credence can see Percival’s bedclothes — perfectly whole — wadded up beneath Percival’s arm.

The mystery cannot hold Credence’s attention while his magic rages to fill the room and Percival is naked before him. Why should it matter how Percival came to be naked? Why should it matter that every lamp in the room is shattered?

Percival’s cock is harder than Credence has ever seen. Even in the dark, Credence can see how flushed it is. The metal of his piercing looks bright in comparison to his flesh. The skin has pulled away completely from the head. It looks bigger than Credence remembers. Especially at the base.

Oh.

“That’s been inside me,” Credence says, without thinking. He feels like he’s falling apart at the seams — half-asleep and too-awake at once, somehow. No, he is falling apart at the seams and all of him is leaking out at once. It’s eager to touch Percival, to taste him, to see him.

He’s never actually seen it before, he realizes. Not like this. He’s only ever _felt_ it. 

He can feel something pulling tight under his skin. His fist closes — is it bigger than that? 

Credence’s heart pounds just as hard from his sudden desire as it did from fear.

“I want,” Percival says, his voice as raw as it is during the peak of his ruts.

“Please,” he says. “Credence.”

“Want you,” he pants. “Inside me.”

Only when he pulls his fingers out of himself does Credence see that he’s been working himself open. His fingers are wet. His hand shakes. He reaches back and shoves his fingers in again. Credence hears it now. 

He can’t make sense of what he’s experiencing. Percival lies before him, swollen and ready, fucking himself like he fucks Credence with his fingers. He’s moaning Credence’s name again and looking up at him as though in pain. 

Credence knows he is something horrible, more darkness than man, but Percival shakes and sweats against the sheets beneath him.

“Credence, please,” he begs. 

“You’re sick,” Credence says. “You’re not well.”

He begins to shake further apart. He can feel everything light — shards of glass, stray socks, the bedspread — begin to float up into the air. Fire starts to spark under Credence’s skin.

Percival groans. “Beauti—ful.”

The lamps ignite again and then sputter out.

“I’m so sorry,” Credence says.

Then in a moment, he’s no longer in the bedroom. He’s in the bathroom somehow, with his back pressed against the cold wall. The faucets begin to run. The mirror shakes against the wall. Credence breathes. He thinks of Tina. He thinks of Percival — no, no, he thinks of Tina. Tina would take him back into her home. She has already seen the worst of him. She would forgive him this as well.

He breathes in and out. In and out. He know the moment he’s returned to himself because he cannot see in the dark any longer. He gets up and finds the lights. He turns off the water.

When he leaves the room, he finds Percival sitting on the lounge in his robe. The loose fabric cannot disguise the swelling between his legs. Credence still cannot believe the sight.

“I,” Percival has to stop to breathe. His brow is wet with sweat.

“Apolo,” he breathes, “gize, Credence. I’ve been.”

A breath.

“Trying.”

“To reso.”

“Resol… Re. Solve. This.”

He pants for a moment. “For hours.”

Credence licks his lips.

“I’ve done this to you,” he says.

“No, no,” Percival insists. He raises a shaking hand.

“Please,” Credence says, “don’t hate me.” 

“I would,” he stops and Credence feels cold fear grip him again. “Never!”

“I can…” Credence squeezes his hands into fists. “I want to help you. You can have my body for relief.”

“Credence,” Percival says, terribly strangled.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “This is all my fault.”

But the truth is he wants Percival terribly, as badly as though he were in heat. He swings his hand to one side, jerkily. Percival’s robe throws itself open for him.

He ought to take Percival to bed. He ought to clean up the mess he’s made of Percival’s bedroom and bathroom.

Credence senses still that Percival is not well. His desire now is a sickness — no, a poison. Credence’s potion has clearly done something awful to him. He’ll surely be convinced that Credence did it on purpose to take advantage of him. Because Credence now wants to take advantage, just as he does every few weeks when they fall into rut together.

“Please forgive me,” Credence says, as Percival spreads his thighs. The man opens his mouth as though to speak, but only noises come forth. He slides down the length of the lounge and reaches between his legs again.

“Let me,” Credence says.

“Yes,” Percival groans. “Yes.”

He reaches out for Credence and somehow manages to say the simplest of spells. Credence’s fingers drip with oil.

“Should I…” He thinks of all that Percival does for him when he is inconvenienced like this.

“Should I use my mouth as well?” Credence asks.

Percival shudders and yanks on Credence’s arm.

“Fuck me,” he insists. “I don’t. I don’t care.”

He stops to breathe. “How! Just, Credence.”

Credence stumbles the little bit forward to close the space between them. His slippery hand moves along the length of Percival’s arm, matting down his hair with oil. He follows Percival’s fingers.

“I wish I could use my own fluids for this,” Credence says, thinking of the times when Percival has done exactly that — when he has been thoroughly exhausted by his own rut but Credence’s suffering persists. Those memories are rare and deeply colored by the sinful excess of their couplings. Outside a rut, Percival has never asked for such things. Credence has not the fortitude to ask either, but he has desired it many times.

“I think of you like this often,” Credence whispers. Percival groans again.

“I’m going to kiss you, Percival,” he says. 

Percival kisses him first. Percival opens his mouth for Credence’s tongue. He breathes into the kisses as well as through his nose pressing to Credence’s cheek.

Inside, he is terribly hot. It’s easy for Credence to slide his fingers in alongside Percival’s. Percival pulls his hand out of the way so that Credence can have his way. 

Credence finds himself kneeling on the floor before the lounge. It’s the most natural position. When his wrist begins to strain he pulls away from the kiss.

Percival is spread out before him on the lounge. 

“Please,” Percival says. “Please.”

He spreads his thighs for Credence, but it’s the beauty of his cock resting against his belly that entices Credence most.

Credence’s fingers tremble on his free hand. He touches just the very tips to Percival’s cock, the lightest brush of skin to skin. Percival’s belly contracts hard. He hisses as though burned. Credence glances up to find Percival’s face twisted with pain. 

Credence snatches back his hand and places it hard against the velvet of the lounge. The low light of the few remaining lamps around them cuts deep shadows into the lines of his suffering face. He’s handsome even like that.

Percival blinks back tears and looks at him. Credence watches his throat move as he swallows.

“Credence,” he says, and Credence feels terribly chastened.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “Percival…”

The man makes a low sound that comes from somewhere in his chest. He reaches out and grabs at Credence’s forearm.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Credence says. “I never want to hurt you. I only…”

It’s so enticing. Credence licks his lips. The hard swelling at the base of Percival’s cock transforms into the most forbidden fruit. The few drops of fluid slicking the silver ring are a nectar that makes Credence’s tongue feel dry. He wants what he cannot have.

He cannot hurt Percival. He’s already hurt Percival. His hardness is not even slightly diminished by seeing Percival in pain.

“I’m a monster,” Credence murmurs. “I want you in monstrous ways.”

Percival shifts against the lounge. He uses one hand to try to hoist his thigh up slightly.

“Good,” he says, breathing labored. He takes Credence’s wrist and pries his hand up from the lounge. With a murmured incantation, he makes oil pool in Credence’s palm. 

“Please,” Percival says, reduced to single words. Credence would prefer more, but he knows what Percival is asking. 

His hands are both occupied, rather inconveniently, and if he touched his clothing now he would dirty it with oil. So it’s Credence’s magic that slips out of his skin and turns his pajamas to ash. Percival watches him with wide eyes and an open mouth. He groans. He reaches out and brushes the cinders from Credence’s chest hairs. He speaks in fragments now.

“Creda— plea— fu—.”

Credence slicks the oil down his length. His hips jerk slightly with anticipation. He can feel wetness moving down the space between his legs. 

“I won’t last long,” he says. “But I have my hands, if you need.”

Percival can only groan.

Credence pushes his cock into Percival alongside his fingers, so that Percival won’t be left empty for even a moment. He knows how it can ache.

Percival’s heavy brow twists up and his eyes squeeze shut. He makes loud and animalistic noises. Credence is transfixed. He sinks deep into Percival, trying not to go too fast. But Percival reaches for him, grabbing at his ribs and his arms. 

Credence looks down and watches fluid spill from Percival’s cock as Credence’s moves deeper into him. His mouth falls open slightly.

“Oh,” he says. He presses their bodies carefully together, because he does not want to touch Percival anywhere he might be too sensitive. But he desperately wants to press his weight against the man and have his way in short, rapid thrusts.

Credence breathes through his nose, short and shaky. He licks his lips.

“Darling? Percival?” he asks. 

Percival grunts at him. He opens his mouth, but only a moan comes forth. It twists higher at the end, unlike any sound Credence can remember Percival ever making. He sounds like Credence at his most embarrassingly desperate. And Percival has always taken such care of Credence at those times.

“Can you nod your head?” Credence asks.

Percival does.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Credence says. “I really am.”

Percival shakes his head from side to side, at first with a small motion. He starts to nearly thrash, his voice making short, clipped sounds.

“Percival!” Credence says, and the man stops. He looks up at Credence.

“How do you want me?” Credence asks. He puts his hands on Percival’s hips.

“Like this? Is this alright?” Percival nods his head.

“Am I hurting you?"

Percival shakes his head to the left and back. Sweat runs down the back of Credence’s neck.

“Would you like me to go slow?” Credence asks.

Percival shakes his head from left to right. When he opens his mouth, his brows also draw together as though he can communicate his frustration with only a moan. Credence wants to kiss him. He tries to talk again, but nothing intelligible comes forth.

“Fast then,” Credence says, and Percival’s face shifts to something pleading and sweet. He smiles as best he can and nods his head.

Credence’s legs shake a little. He pulls out only slightly, then he thrusts back in quickly. It’s easy in this position, on his knees and holding Percival in place. 

He has complete control.

A shiver runs through Credence. The heat of Percival’s body becomes his only focus. He does not even glance back up at Percival’s face. 

Every thrust forces more clear fluid out of Percival’s cock, until it begins to pool on his belly and run down the creases of his skin. Credence hears his own breathing grow labored. He grits his teeth.

He doesn’t mean to treat Percival roughly. Really, he doesn’t. But there is a rhythm to the desperate sounds that Percival makes and to the sound of Credence’s skin meeting Percival’s. The harder he thrusts, the louder the rhythm.

“Darling,” he says. “Percival, you feel so good.”

His fingers dig into Percival’s thighs when he reaches orgasm. He thrusts hard into Percival, enough to make the heavy weight of Percival’s cock jolt against his belly. Percival shouts, probably from pain Credence realizes. His thighs shake on either side of Credence.

Credence clenches his jaw and continues to thrust. 

There are Credence’s toys — the ones Percival bought him to satisfy any desire and which Credence has been too shy to use. He could use those on Percival if this proves lacking. Or his hands. He has had Percival’s entire hand within him once, and only once, and it was quite the experience.

But Credence does not feel himself going soft. Instead, he feels the fluid of his own arousal begin to run down his thighs as though he were in heat. Credence’s breath huffs out through his clenched teeth. 

Percival’s semen runs down his belly and gets on the velvet of the lounge cushions. Credence swears he can see the pulse of Percival’s blood vessels in the length of his cock move as Credence fucks him.

They sound like animals now, both of them. Credence’s body goes tense. His mind blanks. His fears and worries begin to fade away. There is only his body and Percival’s body. They fit together. Percival needs him.

He needs Percival, like he needs air and water. He needs to breathe him in, needs to drink him down.

Credence hunches over Percival and moves his hands. He does not even pause his thrusts. Percival’s thighs squeeze his hips as best they can, as though Percival fears Credence will leave him. Instead, Credence braces one arm beside Percival’s shoulder and reaches for him with the other. He grabs Percival by the back of the neck and looks him in his eyes. He seems barely present. His eyes are dark and tired. His mouth cannot close around the sounds he makes. Even when he swallows, his lips stay parted.

Credence pulls his face up slightly and crushes their mouths together. Percival’s mouth is so cool. The inside of his body, tight around Credence’s cock, is so hot. Credence’s arched over back shudders. He pushes his tongue deep into Percival’s mouth.

Percival puts his arms around Credence, not with any clear purpose. His hands rub over and through Credence’s hair. He smacks his palms against Credence’s shoulders. His fingertips find and follow the shape of Credence’s ribs. Credence feels Percival’s hands begin to shake. His thighs press Credence in so tightly he can hardly move. 

But he tries his best. 

Then Percival grabs him hard around the chest. Credence’s back gives out. He falls against Percival.

All he feels is Percival’s cock, huge and hard against his belly. 

Percival’s body goes tight around Credence’s cock. He squeezes tightly around Credence’s ribs. Percival shouts into Credence’s mouth. When he bites down, Credence’s tongue is caught between Percival’s teeth. The pain makes tears come to Credence’s eyes, but it doesn’t make him want to stop. 

Just as quickly, Percival relaxes. Credence pushes himself back up and finds a sticky, thick mess against his belly and Percival’s. He straightens up and looks Percival over.

He’s still hard and still buried deep in Percival’s relaxing body.

Percival licks his flushed lips.

“Credence,” he says, his voice deep and ragged. “God, Credence, I can smell you.”

Credence does not answer. He takes Percival by the hips again and thrusts.

Now, he is the desperate one. Soon, Percival will come to his senses. He’ll see what horrible things Credence has done to him. Credence grasps for that blissful moment when he thought only of his own body and Percival’s.

His thrusts still force fluid out of Percival’s cock, but Credence watches as with every thrust the swollen knot at the base of Percival’s cock slides further down and down. It doesn’t deflate so much as disappear back into Percival’s body, a retreat and not a defeat. 

“Is it so…” Percival says. “So… fasci… fascinating, Credence?”

Credence cannot hear Percival’s voice and maintain his sense that they are only bodies. He doesn’t speak. He lifts a hand and places it over Percival’s mouth. Percival kisses his dirty palm.

Credence closes his eyes. The breath heaves out of him. He wants, he wants, he wants. His whole body is an aching hunger. It shivers through him. He smells smoke. He comes in two thrusts, neither nearly as satisfying as the first time.

He opens his eyes and Percival looks at him. His face is flushed and sweaty, but his eyes are sharp and alert. He focuses on Credence. Credence’s heart leaps into his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, choking. He pulls his hand away from Percival’s face. He looks at it for a second. He sees Percival’s mouth moving, but he cannot hear.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he says, pulling away. Oh, he’s sensitive then, pulling out too fast. He staggers to his feet.

He looks at Percival drenched in sweat and other fluids, with his robe still caught beneath him on the lounge. There’s semen splattered on the velvet. There’s blood on the wood floor. Credence looks down and sees that his knees are scraped open. His cock is wet. The insides of his thighs are wet. Percival looks ravaged. Credence ravaged him. He enjoyed it. He enjoys the sight of what he’s done.

Credence turns as quickly as he can, tearing his eyes away from Percival, and flees the room.

“Credence!” he hears. “Ah, Morrigan’s tits.”

Percival’s apartment has many rooms and all the bedrooms have at least a half-bath. There is a room set aside to be Credence’s, as though he ever uses a bed separate from Percival’s. But that is where Credence goes now. He can at least do Percival the courtesy of leaving him the master bath to clean up in.

His hands shake when he turns the lock. They shake harder as he turns the faucet on.

He has no clothes. He’s run naked through Percival’s apartment. He’ll have to collect his things and go to Tina’s as soon as he can. 

But first, Credence looks at himself in the glass above the sink. He cannot meet his own dark eyes. He splashes himself with water. It goes up his nose and into his mouth. He turns off the faucet and goes to the tub. He does not run a bath, but he kneels there and rinses the blood from his knees by catching water in his cupped hands. It’s cold.

His cock shrinks from the cold and his body breaks out in gooseflesh. He uses more water to wash between his legs, cleaning away the fluid and trying not think about the ache inside him. He is used to such things.

A knock on the door.

Credence startles, but does not turn off the tap.

“Credence,” Percival’s voice carries over the roar of the water. “I’ve brought you some pajamas.”

Credence doesn’t move.

“I thought we might eat something and then, well, I’d like to go back to bed,” Percival says. “But perhaps we should talk.”

He does not want to talk, and he understands that Percival just wants to go back to sleep.

“Credence?” Percival asks. “Are you alright?”

The lock on the door opens by magic. Credence fumbles to turn off the taps and cover himself.

Percival stands at the door still in his robe. It is loosely tied so that Credence can see his chest. He has barely cleaned up. He smells like sex, still. He reeks of it. Credence feels the inside of his nose itching, but he fights the urge to sneeze.

“Oh, Credence,” Percival says.

“I’ll go,” Credence says. “I’m sorry. You should go back to bed and I’ll… I’ll pack quietly.”

“Credence,” Percival says. “I won’t go to bed without you.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m going to intrude.” He walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Percival has nothing to apologize for. This is his home. 

“Credence, I don’t know what you think has just occurred, but let me tell you what I think has occurred,” Percival says. He seats himself on the toilet and casts an unfair warming charm over the whole bathroom so that Credence’s gooseflesh disappears.

Doesn’t Percival know that Credence deserves that discomfort?

“I took a foolish risk yesterday, despite your advice against it,” Percival says. “I thought that I was surely any match for your magic, because I am not a particularly humble man.”

“You’re…” Credence actually cannot make himself say this. It would be a lie. Percival is not a humble man, it’s true.

“You’re fine,” Credence says. “You didn’t make the potion, I did.”

“Yes, and you smartly told me I shouldn't drink it,” Percival says. “You made a truly, astonishingly good potion, Credence.”

Credence blinks. He rubs his ear, as though it’s got water in it.

“And then you checked on me throughout the day, with all the concern and suspicion that I have come to expect from you,” Percival continues. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Credence.”

He looks at Credence with a fondness that makes Credence look away. He stares at the lip of the bathtub.

“Merlin knows, I haven’t wanted anything so badly as I wanted you all night and again, like a fool, I thought I could just handle things myself. I could smell you right there, beside me, close enough to taste. Yet, I thought I didn’t _need_ you.”

Credence’s throat squeezes tight.

“I fear, Credence, that I’ve not been a partner to you,” Percival says. “I haven’t…”

Credence sits down in the tub and pulls his knees up. Whatever Percival is saying, he doesn’t think he wants to hear. But he can endure it.

“I haven’t been honest with you, as I should, thinking I would frighten you off. But at the same time, I worry that I treat you as a comfort — a pillow to hold at night, a chef to cook for me, a whore when I’m in a rut.”

Credence flinches despite himself.

“Credence, you’re not my servant,” Percival says. “And I would rather move the Goldstein sisters into my home than have you leave it, but I…

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say except that I’m sorry.”

Credence doesn’t know either. He hugs his knees to his chest. “I’m sorry, Percival.”

What Credence has done now, he knows to be against nature, against even magic perhaps — not even simple sodomy, but something altogether worse. But he had enjoyed it. He’ll never forget that.

“I took advantage of you,” Credence says. “Surely, you think I made the potion like that to make you do those things, but I swear I didn’t.”

“Credence,” Percival says.

“Or if I did, somehow, I never meant to,” Credence says. 

“Credence,” Percival insists.

“It was my potion,” Credence says. “I should have taken it. I’m your omega. I should be the one… I should…”

He cannot bring himself to say it.

“I’m glad I took it,” Percival says. “I mean not for the few hours while you were asleep, but for the whole time you fucked me exactly how I wanted without my even asking for it — that part was very enjoyable.”

Credence lifts his head just slightly.

“I mean it,” Percival says. “And you’re not ‘my’ omega, unless you want to be. You’re Credence Barebone. You’re, ah, well, you’re the man I love. The man I’m trying to love.”

There is a long silence then.

“Credence?” Percival asks.

“I want to be your omega,” Credence says.

“Oh,” Percival says. “Well, alright.”

“But there’s… there is very much wrong with me,” he adds.

“Credence, I don’t… well, no, I do care,” Percival says, “but only because I want you to learn magic and to be the man you want to be. If you want to be mine, that would make me incredibly happy. The happiest witch in America, I’d say.”

Credence rubs his face with his hands. He shakes his head.

“Especially if you might treat me like you did tonight at least a few times a year,” Percival adds. “I’d be beyond happy, into ecstasy.”

“You sound ridiculous,” he says. And he feels ridiculous for being so thrilled by Percival’s words.

“I probably do,” Percival says. “But I don’t tell you that I want these things. And so you hide the things you want, is that it? Is that why the… will it upset you if I call it the Obscurus?”

“No,” Credence says. He doesn’t agree with Percival’s logic, but Percival takes it to mean that he won’t be upset if Percival says a very boring word that hardly means anything to Credence.

“The Obscurus doesn’t frighten me,” Percival says. “I want to know your feelings, even if they’re… no, I especially want to know if you are hurt or upset, Credence. And I truly, truly want to know your desires. But I ought to… I ought to tell you more of mine.”

“Yes,” Credence says, just as forcefully.

“Will it upset you if they’re obscene?” Percival asks.

Credence lifts his head and shakes it.

“What if they involve your cock up my ass at all hours?” Percival asks. He’s smirking. “Is that upsetting?”

Credence shakes his head a little more vigorously.

“Alright,” Percival says. “Well then, what if they involve your Obscurus?”

This makes Credence sit up a little straighter in surprise.

“Are you insane?” Credence asks.

“If I am,” Percival asks, “would you still stay with me?”

Credence blinks once, twice, and then he nods.

“Alright, then, I’m insane,” Percival tells him. “And I think I’m in love with you. Now, stand up, I want to get your knees healed up and we can go back to bed. I’d like to hold you a while.”

Credence swallows a lump in his throat. “I’d... like that as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> You too can leave me prompts that I will take months to respond to at jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s.tumblr.com and @jffgldblm90s on twitter.


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